Jewelweed (69 page)

Dart covered each table with tightly stretched wrapping paper, and Nate and Blake went back for the folding chairs. Ivan set blue jars of wildflowers and grasses with seeded-out heads on the tables.

Guests began arriving mid-afternoon, and despite having been told that food and beverages would be provided, most of them brought something to add to the abundant feast. In a short time there was hardly any room to put plates down on the tables.

When the Roebucks arrived, Wally went directly to the roasting pig. He wanted to talk to Nate about the tail; he'd heard it had unusual properties. Ivan led Kevin across the farmyard and pointed at the grass, to the exact place where July Montgomery had died.

“And you think he was murdered?” asked Kevin.

“No doubt,” said Ivan. “It was a government job.”

“Why would they want to do that?”

“He knew too much. My grandfather was good friends with him, and he knew everything July did. In fact, he's lucky he's still alive. They once unloaded a truck of concrete blocks together, took them off the flatbed, one in each hand.”

“Who's your grandfather?”

“He's next to the fire pit talking to Wally. That's his big rig parked over there, the one with the cool chrome horns. Want to see my new video games?”

“Sure. Where are they?”

“Inside my dad's house. Come on.”

Lester Mortal arrived with the Helms. As soon as he saw him, Wally came over to talk. But Lester had been living in relative seclusion for so long that being around this many people left him looking as if he were standing in the middle of the road and watching a bus speed toward him. “I'm sorry,” he said, backing away from Wally. “Give me a little time to adjust.”

“No problem,” said Wally. “We'll talk later.”

Bud Jenks arrived with his mother and three of his cousins. Blake handed them beers from the tub, and Dart set a tray of bite-size roll-ups before them.

Several carloads of Nate and Bee's relatives arrived and immediately made themselves at home, pulling off juicy pieces of pork and eating them without plates. They all knew that Nate and Bee had been spending a lot of time together, and they couldn't help but wonder about it.

“We spent a week together in Slippery Slopes,” said Bee.

“You and Nate always liked each other,” said Uncle Ray. “Everyone knew that.”

“We thought we'd kept it a secret,” said Nate.

They all laughed.

A silver Mercedes drove down the lane and parked in the farmyard. Frieda Rampton climbed out with her husband. She looked confused and a little awkward until Amy and Buck came over, handed them glasses of strawberry wine, and sampled the pastries they had brought from a shop on the west side of Madison. Frieda's husband said he'd heard about the
new prison being built outside Words, and wondered why Buck's construction company had turned down the job.

“My father's still the head of the company and he was against it,” said Buck.

“Which one's your father?”

“Over there next to the roasting pig, writing in his notebook.”

Dart came over and asked Frieda if she wanted to slap her again.

“No,” said Frieda, laughing. “But ask me later.”

“Come on,” said Dart, “let me introduce you to everyone.”

A blue Mercury sedan pulled into the drive. Jack Station walked over and showed Buck and Wally a picture he'd cut out of a catalog—the kind of doors he wanted on his garage. Blake met him near the food tables, shook his hand, and handed him a glass of peach wine.

About midway through everyone's first plateful of food, a motorcycle came up the road and turned down the drive, the sun reflecting off the chrome. Skeeter Skelton climbed off and Blake went out to greet him. Skeeter was wearing full leathers, a red handkerchief around his head, and an expression of windswept indifference.

“Glad you came,” said Blake. “Are we still taking that ride together next weekend?”

“You bet,” said Skeeter. “Do you think we should borrow a couple leisure bikes for the ride—heavy ones with loud pipes and big cushioned seats?”

“Might be a good idea,” said Blake. “Have you ever heard of sour beer?”

“Of course. Do you have some here?”

“About a case of it.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” said Skeeter with a smile, taking off his leather jacket.

Two cars filled with people from the church arrived next. All the women were in dresses, the men in suits or sweater vests. The new pastor introduced himself to everyone in a baritone voice, careful to make sustained eye contact.

As Nate poured another bag of ice into the beer tub, he saw something out of the corner of his eye beyond the farmhouse. When he looked up, the Wild Boy was in the hayfield at the top of the hill, watching.

Sitting at one of the tables, Bee noticed Nate's sudden interest, followed his gaze, and saw the child herself.

Across from her, August turned to see what Bee was looking at. He climbed out of his folding chair and went over to Nate.

“Do you see him, August?” asked Nate.

“I see someone or something that appears to resemble him,” said August.

“He probably smelled the food from several miles away. I know wolves can do that. Let's take something up to him. Do you think he'll accept it?”

“Perhaps a bowl of fruit, nuts, and raw vegetables,” suggested August. “He doesn't eat meat.”

“I'll put one together,” said Nate. “You take it up. I know he trusts you.”

“How do you know that, Mr. Bookchester?”

“Your friend Ivan told Blake, Blake told my cousin Bee, and Bee told me.”

August looked up the hill again. Then he saw Lester Mortal staring at him from the end table, a patient yet serious look on his face.

Winnie watched her son from another table. She saw the old veteran looking at August. When Lester noticed Winnie looking at him, he looked away.

Several minutes later, August took a basket of food up the hill. The child came over and they both ate a piece of fruit. August set the basket on the ground and sat beside it.

Winnie watched the other child sit next to him.

Then both children jumped up. A thin hand pushed against August's chest, knocking him off-balance. August tried to push back, but the other child was quicker and leaped back. August ran after him and the boy dashed through the alfalfa. They were both laughing, but there was something in the tone of the other child's laughter—even from this distance—that worried Winnie.

She went over to sit next to Lester Mortal, who was also watching the children while keeping a safe distance from the other guests.

“I think there's something you haven't told me yet about that child of yours,” said Winnie.

“What makes you think so?” asked Lester, leaning away from her slightly.

“A friendship seems to be forming.”

“Is there a problem with that?” asked Lester.

“There may be. August tends to become very involved.”

“August never told me about that problem,” said Lester, staring up the hill. “He's talked about a lot of things he's concerned about, Reverend Helm, but never that. He's worried about the future of bats, I know, and and the moral decline of this country. He's talked about his concerns for his friend Ivan and the health of Kevin Roebuck, and at one time he was afraid demons were immigrating into the earth and turning it into a new level of hell.”

“I never heard that one,” said Winnie.

“After his bat came back he never mentioned it again. He's also talked about his concerns for your own health and happiness, Reverend Helm, but he's never once mentioned wanting to be less involved.”

“Call me Winnie, Lester.”

“That child in the hayfield has been visiting your house for over a year, watching August. They like each other.”

“I know, I know. But school is starting next week and I think it would be better for everyone concerned if, well, if August's time were devoted elsewhere.”

“So you'd like for them to see less of each other?”

“I think that would be a good idea.”

“It won't be nearly as easy as you think, Winnie.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, she's a girl.”

“I knew it,” said Winnie, gripping the table with both hands and breathing carefully. “I knew it—or at least part of me knew it. It's her laugh and the way she moves. I knew it. How old is she?”

“I don't know for sure, maybe a year older than August.”

“You've made sure she looks like a boy—her hair and her clothes. You've encouraged people to think she's a boy.”

“I hoped August would be less interested in her—that everyone would be less interested. I imagined that most people might tolerate a wild boy, but a wild girl, well, you know—”

“Just the idea of her would drive some folks over the edge,” said Winnie, methodically tearing off small irregular pieces of the wrapping paper that covered the tabletop.

“Right,” said Lester. “They'd never leave her alone.”

“And apparently she didn't want to stay alone,” said Winnie, looking up the hill at the two young people in the alfalfa.

“I guess not,” said Lester.

Winnie put her elbows on the table and wrapped her face in her hands. “I wasn't prepared for this.”

“I know,” said Lester. “Me neither.”

“She's a lovely creature, though,” said Winnie, looking up the hill again. “I've always thought that, even when I believed she was a boy. You call her JW—what does it stand for?”

“A nickname. It stands for Jewelweed.”

Skeeter went over to his motorcycle and turned the radio to a music station. At first everyone just sat there listening, but after a short while Frieda got up from the table and began dancing, her limbs moving in an entirely uninhibited way. Dart set down the tray of watermelon wedges she was carrying from the house and joined her. Then Buck joined them, and the sight of someone so big trying to dance lowered the inhibitions of those still sitting. Soon most of the guests were dancing in the driveway, including Violet Brasso.

“I didn't think this was going to be so much fun,” said Frieda to Dart.

“Why not?” asked Dart.

“I didn't think I was in the right mood.”

“Are you now?”

“It's the strawberry wine. Where did you get it? Is this your place?”

“In a way,” said Dart. “I married into the rent.”

“It's shabby, but it has potential.”

“I know. Someday it's going to be really nice.”

“Are you still working for Amy?”

“I'll be working for Amy when she's as old as her grandmother Flo.”

“Why?”

“That's just the way it is.”

Blake went over to his father's truck, found the same music station, and turned the volume up. The additional sound enlivened the dancers, and they were soon joined by several more from the tables. Ivan and Kevin came out of the house, looking for something to drink. August came down from the hayfield to get a plate of desserts. Bee walked over and poured punch into the boys' glasses.

Blake climbed down from the cab and watched the people gathered in his farmyard, thinking how nice it would be if Spinoza could join them. Blake imagined him taking off his jacket, drinking a glass of wine with Nate, sharing a piece of pie with Wally, talking with Flo, and dancing with Violet, Frieda, and Dart. And as he imagined this impossible scene, Blake found himself inside a moment of clarity. Time collapsed and all of his anxieties about the future fell away. The margins of his private life expanded to include everyone in the farmyard, and he understood that everything he could ever hope to accomplish was already contained within them. They held the limits of his freedom as well as his freedom itself. Their peace was the only kind he would ever know, and it would be enough.

Jacob walked over and stood next to him. Together they leaned against the Kenworth.

“Buck says the addition to the shop can be completed before winter, and as soon as it's done your father wants us to rebuild his diesel. Work is coming in faster than we can keep up with.”

“No kidding,” said Blake.

“Lester wants to hire August and Ivan to help him plant melons next spring, Jack Station wants us to put some solar panels on the roof of his new garage, and there are plans for a new prison a few miles from here.”

“I heard,” said Blake.

Jacob turned away. For a moment he seemed lost, wandering through the forest of some unbounded thought, staring at the piece of ground in front of the corncrib. A tiny cloud drifted aimlessly across the pale blue sky.